Jackson Ford - Random Sh*t Flying Through the Air

What would happen if I lost Nic? Or if he lost me? It wouldn’t be like what Annie is going through, that’s for sure. Nic and I are complicated – and the last couple of days have only made it worse. Paul and Annie have – had – something much simpler. She liked him. He liked her. They both realised it, and decided to be together, and like turned into love. The fact that they came from wildly different backgrounds didn’t matter, and they didn’t give the tiniest shit what anyone else thought.

It was the simplest, most uncomplicated love there is. You only had to take one look at them together to see it – I mean, I’m no expert on this stuff, but even I could figure that out.

And love like that… when it’s torn apart, there’s nothing to fall back on. Annie can’t console herself by saying he was a fling, or she was unsure about Paul, or that she’ll find someone else. He mattered to her, in a way that I’m not sure I matter to Nic – or him to me.

And now there’s only one thing she can do. One thing she believes will stop the pain.

We have to go through with this, or a lot of people are going to die. But what if Annie’s nightmares become… something worse? There’s the guilt of losing Paul, which is bad enough, but what about the guilt of killing a child?

I know if I asked her this, she’d say she wouldn’t feel guilty. That the kid deserves it. But what if she’s wrong?

I can’t stop it from happening, and I’m not even sure I should. But at the very least, I can try and talk to her. Let her know I’m around.

“Are you OK?” I shout, then immediately wish I hadn’t. As conversational openings go, it lacks a certain je ne sais quoi .

She touches her ear, shaking her head, irritated. I look around for something to write with – pen, paper, anything. Inspiration: you have a phone, numbnuts . I pull it out, noting the time – 06:22. My fingers dance, opening up the email app.

I still haven’t come up with a better opening gambit, so I type a simple You OK? , tilting the phone so Annie can see

She takes it, types back: Fine .

I’m here if you need to talk

Said im fine

Worried about you. Scared we are doing the wrong thing

Now there’s real annoyance in her expression. She waves me away, refusing to take the phone. For fuck’s sake – why is it so clear in my head, but so hard to actually say? Type? Whatever?

Annie come on… pls talk to me

When she read what I’ve written, she suddenly snatches the phone away, thumbs dancing. I’m not talking to you about this, I don’t give a duck if you want to talk… this is happening so just deal with it k???

She drops the phone in my lap. Then she turns away from me, folding her arms and closing her eyes.

The truck pulls off the interstate just as the sky begins to lighten in the east. Matthew wakes immediately, feeling rather than hearing the pitch of the engine change.

He sits up, blinking. Behind him on the truck’s cot, Amber shifts in her sleep.

Jocelyn pulls her rig onto the shoulder, cuts the engine. She lets out a satisfied sigh as she puts the parking brake on, cricking her neck. “Oh hey, little one,” she says, eyes meeting his in the rear view mirror. “Sleep OK?”

He tries to stifle a yawn, fails. Then he climbs onto the passenger seat, presses his hands to the window. Outside, the world is still.

“Careful on that glass, son,” Jocelyn says, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “You’ll leave handprints.”

“What time is it?”

“Oh, about seven? Quarter of?”

In the back, Amber sits up, eyes bleary.

“Are we in Portland already?” Matthew asks.

“With the roads the way they are? Honey, we’re barely into Oregon. Only been in the last hour or so that the traffic has cleared a little.” She yawns, exposing nicotine-brown teeth.

“So where are we? Exactly?”

“Wolf Creek. Middle of nowhere, off the 5. Don’t worry, we won’t be here long. Just taking a little break.”

She pops the door, climbs out of the cab. She’s so broad that she’s actually wedged into her seat by the steering wheel, and has to wiggle her way out. Matthew follows. He’s thirsty, too, his mouth desert-dry from the truck’s AC.

There’s just enough dawn light in the sky to see by. They’re parked in a deserted rest area, well away from the Interstate. Thick trees surround them on all sides, the ground on their eastern flank sloping upwards. The shadows in the trees are ink-black. Jocelyn leans up against the truck’s cab, lit cigarette in hand. They’re alone in the rest area, no other vehicles nearby. There’s no rain now, but the sky is still thick with clouds.

“Yep.” Jocelyn exhales a cloud of smoke, careful to turn her head away from Matthew. “I love mornings like these. Nice and peaceful. Sometimes I just pull off the road and walk for while.”

He’s about to tell her that they need to go, they don’t have time for her to give herself cancer, when he feels it.

An ETS zone.

It’s a little tug at the edge of his senses – like the moment before a sunrise, when you know there’s a giant ball of fire just below the horizon, but you can’t see it yet. There’s energy there, huge amounts of energy. It sends delicious prickles down his spine.

He thought they’d pass the one in Oregon completely, but they’re right on the edge of it. What if…?

He crouches down, puts his hand flat on the ground. There’s the noise of the truck’s door opening and shutting as Amber joins them.

Jocelyn snickers. “Little mucky pup, your son.”

“Hey, Matthew, do you want some water?” Amber calls. “I think there’s juice in the truck too, if—”

“Matthew?” Jocelyn’s brow furrows. “Thought his name was Mikey.”

“Sorry, yes. Mikey’s like a nickname. Matthew’s his actual first name.”

“Uh-huh. Anyway, he’s a smart one, your boy. Not like my little Katy, my Sally’s latest. Two years old and can’t even say mama yet! Don’t get me wrong, she’s cute as a button, but I’m guessing talking isn’t something little Mikey or Matthew or whatever had a problem with. Right?”

Matthew ignores them. The stored energy in the ETS zone is there, he can sense it. It’s like an itch at a spot he can’t quite reach. He has to concentrate. Dig deep. Most probably, he’s not going to be able to trigger the fault from here. But oh, if he could…

And he can.

He can feel it. It’ll take a lot of work, but he can trigger Cascadia from here. It couldn’t be better. There’s no one around to see him put himself inside the ball of dirt, no people from the government to stop him. They don’t even know where he is. And if they did… so what? What are they going to do about it?

Wait. There is someone around.

Jocelyn is still talking, blabbering on behind him. Matthew stands, looks at her, tilting his head.

The trucker trails off. Suspicion clouds her eyes.

“No,” Amber says. “Honey, please, she—”

“Shut up.” He barely glances at her.

“No.” She’s shaking her head, stepping between him and the trucker. Matthew still hasn’t told his mother about the ETS zones, or Cascadia, and she’s way too stupid to figure it out on her own, but she still knows he wants to do something. “She doesn’t have to – look, just let her go. Let her drive away. If we’re in the right place…” She steals a glance over her shoulder, as if she knows she’s said too much.

“Something on your mind?” Jocelyn can’t quite stop the fear sneaking in. Around them, the dawn holds its breath.